


Snowed In

by suhdude



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Ghost BC
Genre: Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingering, Hurt/Comfort, I have feelings, Magic, Other, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, blizzard, common sense there, hes real old in this one but like magic so, maybe its plot with porn, unspecified gender, when its cold you cum inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suhdude/pseuds/suhdude
Summary: A deadly blizzard looms, could your companion be the safer bet or just as deadly?
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader, Papa Emeritus/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	Snowed In

The window of the small farmhouse rattled in the blistering cold winds. Single panes lead to a chill that couldn’t retreat no matter how you stocked the fire. Chips of stained white lead paint seemed to shiver and roll along the edges of the shudders whose clasps hardly held now, though a rougher storm was sure to come. A kettle of water was set and swung into the fire to boil. The hearth seemed only to heat what lay nearby so you stayed close. Swathed in blankets you watched the logs tremble and crack as they burned. Many days of tireless walking had run your body ragged, the events leading to it held your mind captive, a different kind of exhaustion.

The room smelled of burning pine and was bitterly dry and stale. Dusty surfaces left untouched for years, you only came here as shelter from the deadly cold. No one answered when you had knocked. The door creaked open to your delight then, but now a creeping claustrophobia set in. The winds whistles picked up as you rocked to regain some sensation. The room was warming slowly but you only had small stores to burn, pulling the small chair closer to the fire would be too risky, and yet you still pondered the possibility. The pantries held old preserves, if the storm continued for more than a week you would surely starve. By the looks of the place no one had visited in years, would anyone find your body in this insipid isolation? It wasn’t as if anyone was looking for you. 

The rolling boil of the kettle and its new found whistle drug you from the morbid thoughts. You lifted yourself to search for a bowl or cup, a vessel was needed for the boiling brew if you were to have any hope of drinking it. Crouching you noticed the fire seemed to be backless, it wasn’t common for some to heat two rooms but not completely unheard  
of. Before you began your search of the pantries yet again, you used the fire poker to swing the hook on which the pot hung away from the licking flames. 

The door swung open with it. 

Your head whipped to the source of the sound. 

A flurry of snow illuminated by flames seemed to form into a beast of many furs. The figure took two heaping steps in and turned to slam the door back closed. Curling in on yourself, you studied the form. It’s eyes met yours in an instant, a chill flew through your soul as his mismatched eyes glared apprehension your way. Unease as heavy as lead in your gut formed as they began to trail over you, a predator sizing up his prey.

“I’m sorry if I-“ you started.

“You can weather the storm here.” He spoke, voice dry and gravelly.

A pause.

“Thank you.” You nodded. 

He grunted, crouched, and removed his boots. Your eyes shifted from him to the window. Here was still a safer bet than out there. Death was a risk here but the cruel claws of cold held certainty in their wicked grasp, a fate you had not resigned yourself to just yet.

The clunk of the kettle being picked up off the hook cased you to look back to the fireplace. His staggering form seemed to move silently, missing every creak in the warped floorboards. His presence loomed over you now, imposing on the breath you drew. The man took a tin cup from the mantle you had managed to miss with every pass of the eye and filled it with the steaming water. He produced something from his coat and poured liquid from it, quickly stashing it back away. Your mouth moved to thank him for the shelter but no words formed, his eyes met yours again, peering over the shroud that concealed his face, the worn hide of his glove met your hand. Heat emanated from the mug he placed in your palm. The stinging burn met your senses as his hand left yours. A hiss escaped from between your teeth as your eyes dropped to the tin, quickly as you could you moved the handle to your grasp, pain shrieking on the skin it boiled. 

“Thank you” you managed, pulling your face from the steam rising from your drink. Thanks was met with the creaking of a chair being moved near the fire. The figure set it at the opposite side of the hearth, keeping distance but trying to gain the much-needed heat. A mass of the tanned hides that had adorned him began to line the floor in front of the dancing flames. The remaining flakes of snow clinging to the fur glistened in the quickly darkening room. Curious, you followed his movements, waiting for him to unwrap the remaining layers, but, he sat without so much as removing his gloves. Stranger yet he kept his hat and thick scarf on, the last thing he removed being the well-worn boots that covered only thick woolen socks, pants haphazardly tucked into the tops. Looking back up his frame you noticed a mug perched on his knee, how had he moved so quickly?

“Won’t be able to leave anytime soon” his voice rumbled. Pricking cold stood your hair on end as your eyes finished their journey up to his hidden face. His head motioned to the window, a flurry of icy snow beat at its panes. A howl of wind accompanied the new peaks forming on the sill, slowly suffocating the view outside. A tired groan seemed to come both from the man and the house as he moved from his seat, replacing the mug where it had sat on the dusty mantel. Time seemed to flow in the wrong order here, hadn’t he just sat down? When did the steam slow from your drink? The spiced water met your parched mouth, stinging your throat slightly on its journey down. Heat radiated from the liquid through your body. 

Popping of a cork took your eyes across the room. With the flask from earlier in hand, you watched as an amber liquid flowed from a dark bottle, refilling the metal with a sloshing sound. His face was turned away, scarf pulled down it seems, and you studied the bit of skin you could see. The flickering light did not help to quench your curiosity, only black bits of tanned leather stuck from beneath the scarf. His shadow betrayed a bit more. You could tell the cork rested in his uncovered mouth from the unsteady shapes cast on the crumbling wall, that he seemed to have a knack for swift movements, and that he had noticed you. Frantically it seems, he pulled the scarf back up and turned to glare at you. 

Spine now horribly straight, pressed to the chairs backing, you watched as he vanished into the stillness of the small hall. Another door swung them slammed shut. Scraping sounds came from behind the fire. Footfalls on tile. Splashing of water in a basin as it screeched across the floor towards the other open end of the heated hearth. Wood pellets were tossed on the slowly dwindling flame. It sprung back as it greedily devoured the new fuel. 

The door opening and closing again bounced off the walls in the small space, then was replaced by the rusted noise of the pantry door opening. Still not revealing his face the man  
returned, a jar of preserves and a small spoon. Glad for the hospitality you took them from his leather clad outstretched hand, the gloves smooth and shockingly warm. 

“Sleep in the bedroom once you’re done. The quilts should be adequate.” There lingered an air of aristocracy in his voice you couldn’t place, it made no sense for a man of high standing to be so far away from everything, but, the grumbling of your stomach pulled the questions from your mind and placed focus on twisting the jar top off to get sustenance to pull some of the dizziness out of your head. As the first spoonful of the cool peach preserves hit your tongue, covering it in a delicate film of sugar, the garments from the floor began curling themselves around your host. He disappeared back out into the blizzard without a word. 

You made quick work of the food then pulled yourself from the chair. The stocked fire hadn’t lost any heat since the pellets were placed on it, you moved the dented screen in front of it, then ventured to the small bedroom you had found on your initial sweep of the small structure. To your surprise the small framed bed held a multitude of spread out quilts as well as a thick fur. Keeping one of the blankets swaddled from when you sat before the fire you crawled into the bed and let your exhaustion overcome you. 

Crackling then crashing woke you up, the window in the bedroom obliterated by the vicious storm, sickeningly cold wind made you choke on the air around you, burning your lungs with every breath. Groggy and panicked you flung yourself from the bed, tripping on your drowsiness and frantic your body hit the floor, hardly pulling the door open you shimmied through the small opening and let the pressure change in the house seal the door back to its frame. Panting, your back pressed to the wall. Heart thudding in your ears you suppressed the bile that crept into your mouth. 

Heart calming, something else filled your ears. A deep voice singing, chanting almost, lulling you closer. Returning to the comfort of the hearth seemed a safe idea but the draw of the unfamiliar voice beckoned to you. Light bled through the keyhole and your eye followed its stream. Steam spun above a basin tub, carrying a comfort with the solemn tune. Focusing your sleep crusted eyes, you tried to put the room together. It was well decorated, the tub being the centerpiece, the dainty tile works out of place in the decrepit house.  
Heat radiated even through the door. 

Something crept over the side. Eyes betraying you, they must have been, a skeletal hand rose from the water, the attached forearm as bare as could be, followed it upwards.  
Blinking fast, you couldn’t pull yourself away from the ghastly sight. As steam rolled around it and the voice swept into a darker melody you saw what looked to be vines climb up the bone, then a deep pink of muscle following it. The bile made its way back up to your mouth. Hastily you swallowed it, unable to look away the act played out further. The muscle began to blacken over the new found tendons, bits of skin rose to meet it but quickly dissipated as if pulled back away by something stronger than the voice could combat.  
Fingers, now ghastly blue, bubbled under your watch, thin nails struggling to rise to the surface, the unwavering chant continued, holding notes of frustration now, it pressed deeper into you, sickening you further and yet repulsion was not the only thing it elicited. It twisted your soul in sorrow. The words rolled like a basterdized forgotten language.  
An opera of clashing melodies paralyzed you, triumph rolled with the pace of the song, creamy flesh covered the forearm without peeling back away, tracing a route up to the upward stretched and curved palm. Pride welled up in your chest, you shifted your feet, the song paused and the deep tones drew down the arm like dye. The gravity of the situation fell on you at once. It must be a dream, yet, it made no sense. You shook our head, finally pulling your gaze from the keyhole, falling backwards your hand hardly made it in time to stop you from hitting the ground. 

Fumbling for footing you crawled away, heart leaping as sounds of splashing water replaced the tune that had drawn you near. Panicked, you darted to the hearth, pulling the fire poker from the stand. Palpitating heart leaping into your throat you watched, the stream of light from the keyhole disappear from the wall and then a flood of light illuminated the hall. Door re-closing the darkness pooled back into place, a figure emerging from it. Pitter patter of water from his hair hit the floor. Holding the makeshift weapon at the ready you shook, he drew closer, and closer still. A gulping breath, and his sick tune started again, this time his skin did not change, but memories whirled in your mind, but none of your own. First and image of a great party, eyes adoring him, grace in his very being. Charming, daring, a bit risqué, carefree. They appeared in quick succession, tears filled your eyes, the words still held no meaning but the emotion in them did when the look into his past filled your mind, stories that had appeared in legend. Handsome, mighty, then all at once betrayed and banished, royalty, the third in his brothers to rule, just to have his own betray him and replace him with a rat. The shove from his pedestal, beaten bruised, cast far from his home. He couldn’t have survived the winter, you felt the torn clothes fair to shield from the blizzard, not unlike the one that raged outside, as if the cold was tearing at your own flesh and bone. Sinking to the floor you wept, eyes pressed tightly closed, it continued, your body went from freezing to burning, a face from earlier flashed, his voice came from your throat begging to release you just to hear the figure speak in same tongue curse you further, the torment seemed to hold no end, a Prometheus like hell. Battle of his survival, if you could call it that, flooded your mind. You shuddered as the tune broke and rewound, his attempts to rejoin, to find anyone, the first sickening glance he had at his own rotting face, his struggle to repair himself just to watch his body fall apart again, every emotion, the anguish and dread swirled through you. The ages of torment he endured played and tore at you now, pulling you to the pit he was cast into. Countless years of uninterrupted loneliness and despair. 

“Make it stop,” you begged “Make it stop!”

The illusion in your mind shattered as you spoke. The house was empty of sound.

“I’m sorry” his voice was sullen, hopeless. You felt the cast iron poker move in your hands, your grip held fast and the movement stopped. “You should return to bed.”

Eyes still firmly shut you cowered slightly at the sound. He drew a breath. You felt the poker leave your hands; you didn’t fight this time. Mind fizzing in your skull you resigned yourself to believing it was all a sick dream. 

“Do you need help to rise?” he spoke again. “I can cover my hands, if you need help to stand.”

“No,” you muttered, your own voice feeling alien.

“I can leave this house for a while, until the storm passes again, you don’t-“

“No…no… you'll die.”

Something similar to a snicker came before he spoke “I wish that I could.”

Eyes breaking open you stared at him in shock, the feeling deepened as you had the first clear look at him as the flames illuminated his body. He wore a peasant shirt and loose  
pants, the cream colours a sharp contrast to his bare arms. A ghoulish purple black they shone, moving slightly under your gaze, his own memories had shown you the reason, the disgust you felt seeing the flesh creep up the bones moments earlier was replaced with despair. You looked further up, his collar bones bone dark marks, but, held mainly white, an eerie effect as the veins visibly moved beneath the thin layer. His eyes met yours again. It hadn’t been a shadow cast earlier, they were indeed sunken, his face appeasing comically skull like. Snow pale skin on higher parts and a frostbitten grey further into the sunken parts bellow his cheekbones and around his eyes. His nose, what remained of it, was blackened and contorted. 

The man who seemed a stranger minutes ago appeared to you now as an old friend, flickers of his old life haunting your thoughts, running parallel to your own wicked memories, you rose and took a step forward. He flinched as you moved, strange, to see such a frame quake at your own movements. He turned away. 

“Does it hurt?” you whispered. 

“Yes” he sighed defeated.

“Is there nothing that can help?”

“Nothing I could ask.” A level of uncertainty clung to his voice, hesitancy not far from it. “I should go, you should get to bed, it’s the only way you’ll stay warm…”

“The window broke, its too cold to so much as breath in there now, the snow has probably sunk into the quilts as well.” you replied, stepping closer to him, feeling as though your emotions were one now. His fear of you was as clear as if he had spoken it, and yet, you could feel his need for comfort. Carefully, you took a breath and moved closer. 

“I’m sorry, for what happened to you” you offered. A gentle shake came when he exhaled. “I felt it, all of it.”

“I didn’t…I’m sorry… you shouldn’t have had to...”

His voice trailed as you put a single digit on his upper arm. He went to move but hesitated, waiting for you. The rest of your trembling hand rested on his arm. A sob tore through him, spinning on his heel to face and embrace you. Tucked close to his chest you felt the sting of tears again. The two of you sobbed, finally letting the emotions trapped in the song flow from you. Knees giving out the two of you slunk to the floor, the furs he had used to brave the outdoors serving as a cushion beneath you. It seemed like hours that you cried, emotions bubbling up in waves and tearing at your throats, arms holding each other together.

Sadness dissipated, the closeness bringing something warmer. His creaturesque hands carefully tilted your face up to his, he moved with caution, giving you every chance to move away as his lips pressed cooly to yours. Worry pooled in his eyes, shocked at what he had done, when you met his uneven gaze again. Molten desire filled you, the brush of your lips like flint in a dry field. It seemed like any time your heart had slowed it found a new reason to speed back up, this felt the most dangerous, but somehow, the most rewarding.  
You adjusted and pressed your lips to his, hungry for his touch in a new way. You pulled your arm from around him ad let your hand venture to touch his hair. Brilliant as ravens’ feathers in the sun it shone as your fingers moved it. It was softer than the moan it pulled from his lips. Shock was secondary to the pleasure that emanated from his being. He sat the two of you up, greedily your hands moved to his waistband to pull his shirt from the confines of his belt. Separating you stripped him of his shirt, he wasted no time pulling the clothes that held you from him. Cool air met your chest as his lip met your neck. Passionate kisses fueled by need, his teeth trailing with his tongue as he devoured you. You let your eyes roll back, the heat of your chest meeting the chill of his as he laid you back onto the furs. Weightlessness, a dizziness of the most wonderous kind spread through  
your body as he moved further down, then, a pause. 

You pulled your head up to look at him. 

“Are you sure?” he spoke.

“Yes. I want this,” you returned, permitting him further. 

A look of disbelief and a smile pulled at his face, his hands were quick to pull your bottoms down as the words registered. Softer skin seemed to cover his hands as they wandered over your body, exploring the newly exposed skin. Kisses peppered your hips, then thighs, moving inward at a gruelingly slow pace. The mischievous grin spreading across his face was as apparent as the heat from the fire beside you and twice as bright.

One hand continued exploring as the other joined his face lower down. His lips met their destination and his finger worked its way in. Starved for so long of touch you nearly cried out as his finger curled, wasting no time finding its mark. Tension growing, you moved your hips to meet his mouth, the cushy fur shielding you from the chilly floor meaning no matter how your hips moved they were met with one pleasure or another. His desire grew as you squirmed under his touch, driving each other closer. One finger became two as he pulled your climax closer, sweat broke out across your forehead, the end in sight you arched your back, toes curing, you came undone. He held you close as you rode out your high. The flood of endorphins had yet to quench our thirst for him. He watched you as you lay back, eyes drifting oven and closed before carefully withdrawing his fingers. 

Head stopping its spin you propped yourself up on your elbows, hand reaching for him, he leaned down. Your mouth met his once again, feverish as lust consumed you yet again. His own need was apparent as you reached to undo his pants. You pawed at him as he kissed you, tasting of your own ecstasy on his tongue, leaning back as his body covered yours, thin skin practically glowing. He slowed and pulled his mouth from your again, studying your face once more, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. 

“Do you want me?” you questioned. 

“Yes,” he panted “more every moment” 

“Then take me, Emeritus” you tempted. 

His chest swelled with breath as he moved, your words sparking him into a race to remove what was left of his clothes. You hadn’t had time to even glance at what lay beneath before he was pressed to you, face buried at your throat, tasting you, savoring each second. He was slow only in sinking in, each minuscule movement precise as he pushed deeper. His moans flowed into music, breath hitching even before you met his base. It was obvious he hadn’t touched another in far too long, and yet, he still held something tempting in his indignity. Fully sheathed, he gasped, air flowing between you seemed to carry his explicit melody. It was torture having him withdraw even the slightest bit. The first few stokes were small, he seemed to be testing his own resolve. 

All at once his resolve vanished into a frenzy. His kisses resumed their hungry pressings on your neck, which you bore willingly to his mouth. His thrusts lost their calculation but not their rhythm, pulling a chorus of moans from your own mouth he pressed deep into you. The power of his hips moved the two of you slightly with each thrust. Depraved words joined his moans as his lips pressed near your ear, his cock pushing you faster to the edge than you thought possible. Your legs moved of their own volition to draw him deeper, heel pressing his ass as he madly moved, trying to get closer to you. Pleasure sprang from you again. The wind cried out as you did, and neither he nor the storm relented in their movements. He was a flurry above you, his hair a mess. He rose slightly, scrunching some of the fur below you to prop your ass up, his cock finding the spot his fingers had pressed earlier. 

His form was monstrous but what he was doing to you soared you heaven bound. One hand holding your leg, the other ventured to rub you again. Overstimulation loomed but so did the next climax. Growing closer and stronger you pushed yourself to chase one more. Your lust had yet to relent, and you prayed he would get you over just one more peak.  
Practically folding you in half he leaned forward again, his pace becoming as wild as you felt pleasure washed over you again. You had no choice but to cling to him as it tore through you, massive and unmatched you felt yourself tighten around him. As you met the final apex, he came undone inside you, speaking in the tongue you didn’t recognized, he shared the feeling with you. 

His form collapsed on you, his foundation falling from beneath him. Gentle kisses then soft laughter in spite of the situation came. 

The roars of the storm continued on, but the two of you had found solace in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentines, hope you're okay


End file.
